#carmax

Prompt for @sailing-with-100-ships

Carlos being the WAG for his four boyfriends. Like he is a cafe owner or a library owner and he just happens to date the four top guys in F1. And they fight over in whose garage is Carlos is going to watch the race in and how the grid is so in love with him as well and look forward to him visiting. And any other shenanigans you wanna write.

Carlos Sainz was not a driver anymore. That was the first thing he made very clear when he retired at 31, opened a quiet little café-bookshop hybrid in Monaco, and vowed to live a peaceful life. No more helmet hair, no more PR obligations, no more dealing with Max Verstappen’s feral driving, Charles Leclerc’s tendency to crash out of pole, Lando Norris’s obsession with memes, or Oscar Piastri’s deceptively quiet brand of chaos.

He was done.

Except… he wasn’t really done. Not when he was dating all four of them. At the same time.

Don’t worry, they all knew. They were very aware — a bit too aware, judging by the way they bickered every single race weekend about who Carlos loved most. Spoiler: it was all of them. Equally. But try telling that to four competitive F1 drivers hopped up on adrenaline and insecurity.

Carlos, meanwhile, was just trying to keep his café running and find enough bookmarks for the new stack of novels he accidentally ordered in French.

…………………………………….

Carlos showed up wearing a pale beige turtleneck smelling faintly of lavender and espresso. He walked into the paddock, immediately drawing attention like a lighthouse in a storm.

Yuki Tsunoda nearly walked into a wall.

Fernando Alonso said, “Mira ese chico… Dios mío,” and had to be steered away from walking straight into a camera crew.

Even Toto Wolff stopped and muttered something about how Carlos would’ve made a great Mercedes ambassador.

But Carlos? Oblivious. As always.

He wandered toward the garages, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, cheeks pink from the early English sun, and all four of his boyfriends immediately descended.

“You promised me this race,” Max said, arms crossed, eyes dark and possessive. He looked like he was about to challenge someone to a duel.

“No, he said he’d think about it,” Charles argued, lips pursed, protective hand already curling around Carlos’s waist.

“I literally booked him a special McLaren pass,” Lando chimed in, throwing his hands up. “It had glitter, mate.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. He simply produced a to-go cup from Carlos’s café, slid it into Carlos’s hands, and whispered, “If you loved me you’d sit in my garage.”

Carlos blinked. “You’re all—insane. I’m going to hospitality.”

All four of them followed him anyway.

…………………………

The Grid Loved Carlos. Too Much.

There were bets on who he would kiss first after a podium.

Rumors about whether he’d start a YouTube channel for café recipes.

Lewis Hamilton posted a story once with Carlos petting Roscoe and captioned it “aesthetic husband,” and the internet imploded. But it was taken down and reposted as just ‘aesthetic’ due to some threats from a comment from @‘DutchLion’

Pierre Gasly declared Carlos “the unofficial paddock prince.”

And whenever Carlos arrived at a race, all the drivers — even the ones in rival teams — tried to bribe him with flowers, coffee beans, imported jam, rare books. Even Albon baked cookies once. (They were terrible. Carlos ate all of them anyway.)

……………………………

Martin Brundle attempted to interview Carlos mid-grid walk.

It did not go as planned.

Martin: “Carlos! What brings you here today?” Carlos: “Well, Max said I never support Red Bull, but Charles had a bad quali, and Oscar said I’m his lucky charm, and then Lando threatened to cry if I didn’t—” Martin: “So… you’re here for all of them?” Carlos: “Sí. And I brought snacks.”

Moments later, four drivers fought over a cup of hot chocolate that Carlos bought for himself like children.

Carlos sighed and muttered, “I date grown children.”

………………………….

Every driver has at some point posted a suspiciously poetic Instagram caption on a Carlos pic.

Charles: “He is the calm in my storm. ☕️❤️”

Lando: “This man? He’s sunshine. And probably a siren.”

Oscar: just a photo of Carlos in glasses with a heart emoji

Max: (never captions them, just posts the pictures and lets the chaos speak for itself)

But it doesn’t stop there.

Pierre has drawn Carlos. Multiple times. One is framed.

Fernando wrote a love poem. In Spanish. In his race notebook.

George keeps sending Carlos reels titled “If I were your boyfriend 😌💍.”

Carlos: “Do you all… realize I’m already dating four of your fellow drivers?”

Valtteri: “Yes. But what if we didn’t care about that?”

Meanwhile his boyfriends try to mark their territory.....

CHARLES pov:

Carlos wore a soft cream sweater today. It hung off one shoulder.

Everyone was looking. Zhou stared for too long. Fernando licked his lips. Even Lewis raised an eyebrow. Carlos blushed.

I died.

I stormed over. Took his coffee. Sipped from it. Held eye contact with Alex Albon while I did it. Marked my territory.

Carlos just smiled and called me ridiculous.

I called him mine in three languages.

He patted my cheek like I was some little boy and said, “Good job, mon amour.”

I would kill for him. I would burn the paddock down for him. I would also cry if he left me on read for too long. He hasn't. He's perfect. I love him.

...............................

MAX POV:

I don’t like people. I don’t smile. Except for Carlos.

Carlos walked into the Red Bull garage wearing a cardigan and glasses. My engineers went feral. Someone dropped a tire gun. Helmut smiled. I punched a wall.

Carlos asked me if I ate breakfast. I said no. He handed me a granola bar and said “You can’t race fast if you faint, schat.” I nearly cried.

Carlos is mine. I’m his emotional support Dutchman.

He once kissed my forehead before qualifying and I set the fastest lap by six tenths. Coincidence? I think not.

................................

LANDO POV:

Carlos called my hoodie “cute” today. I haven’t taken it off in 13 hours. I may never again.

He visited our garage and the sun came out. Literally. The clouds parted like Moses had beef with rain.

Pierre tried to hand him a seat. I tripped Pierre.

“Oops,” I said.

Carlos laughed. HE LAUGHED. That’s worth like five wins.

Later, Carlos posted a pic of my latte art on Instagram. I replied with 14 heart emojis and “I love you.” It’s fine. We’re dating. I can do that. Probably.

I played him a playlist I made called “Songs That Remind Me of Your Smile.” He said it was “adorable.”

George called me disgusting. He’s jealous.

................................

OSCAR pov:

I’m not dramatic like Charles. Or obsessive like Max. Or Lando. Or… everyone.

I’m normal.

Anyway, Carlos wore glasses today. Black frames. Looked like a hot professor. I didn’t speak for ten minutes.

He complimented my post-race interview and I blacked out for a moment.

Later, we sat in the hospitality lounge and read. Like, together. Sharing a blanket. Carlos smelled like cinnamon and lavender. He wore fuzzy socks. I have never known peace like this.

Lando tried to FaceTime him from across the room. I unplugged the Wi-Fi.

Carlos gave me a cookie for that. Called me his “quiet little genius.”

I think I blushed.

Don’t tell anyone.

.................................

Their Shared Notes App — “Carlos Protocols”

Section 1: Rules

Whoever Carlos chooses to sit with, the others must not sulk (Max).

No fighting over who brings him coffee (Charles).

No flirting from other drivers allowed (Everyone’s guilty).

Whoever makes Carlos laugh gets to cuddle him first that night.

Carlos is always right. Even when he’s wrong. Especially then.

Section 2: Carlos-isms

Hums when he bakes.

Wears Lando’s hoodies to sleep sometimes. (Unfair.)

Kisses Max’s temple before races. (Unfairer.)

Leaves Oscar little notes in his book margins. (Unfairer-est.)

Holds Charles’s face when he cries and says, “You feel so much. That’s your magic.” (Everyone cries.)

Section 3: Emergency Kit

Blanket (he gets cold)

Backup glasses (he loses them)

Cinnamon tea

Lavender lotion

A list of compliments for when he’s sad

Photos of dogs

The group’s undying devotion and love

................................

Every single race weekend ended with one of the four carrying Carlos like a sack of sugar to their respective motorhome. Arguments became public. Social media speculated. A "Carlos Tracker" account launched on Twitter, detailing his garage attendance, outfit, kisses received per driver, and “flirtation attempts from non-boyfriends” (a high number, embarrassingly).

And then there was Vegas.

Carlos wore a three-piece suit and sunglasses at night. He looked so good every single person from engineers to team principals were caught staring.

Oscar broke a front wing from pure distraction. Lando spun in FP3. Charles kissed Carlos on live feed out of spite. Max said nothing and just scooped Carlos into the Red Bull hospitality area and locked the door.

The FIA had to intervene.

………………………….

He made them all agree to rotate garages.

He baked them cookies with their initials on them.

He kissed each of them before every race.

He had a little couch set up just for him in every motorhome.

He was still the grid favorite. Still the softest WAG. Still blushing every time someone called him “the real paddock power.”

………………………

Driver Group Chat

Lando: bros. who kissed Carlos last?? he smells like vanilla and I’m obsessed.

Charles: Me. Fight me.

Oscar: I made him soup. He loves me the most today.

Max: You’re all wrong. He slept in my hoodie.

just finished this old wip from a while ago